RIP
by O. L. Jenkins
Summary: The Chesapeake Ripper's identity has always been that of a mystery, but when two hunters, a Doctor and an impossible woman happen upon each other, their combined forces may well reveal what has always been hidden. This story also contains Supernatural as well as the two shows mentioned. Devil's trap credit: /art/Devils-Trap-146353041
1. Chapter 1

The hum of the TARDIS console was now like background noise to Clara. The sound of her heartbeat was as familiar to her at this point in time, and yet, she still had this feeling that the TARDIS was toying with her. Ever since she travelled to the famed Rings of Akhaten, she was certain that the TARDIS had a grudge against her, that the sensations she felt when aboard the ship weren't just her paranoia but actual, tangible hatred. She had no idea why the TARDIS hated her, of course, she was just an ordinary woman, but the ship's attitude towards her still softly hacked away at the back of her mind.

"You alright?" the Doctor's sympathetic tones echoed around the console room, carrying the heartfelt message with them.

Clara turned to him and smiled, "Ah nothing," she looked up at the spherical revolving discs above the time rotor, "just wondering why this old rust bucket doesn't like me."

"Rust bucket?!" the Doctor shouted in lowered tones at Clara, "I'll have you know this TARDIS is in pristine condition. And I'm sure she likes you really, you just need to get to know her. Like... like an estranged nan!"

A puzzled look shot back at the Doctor from the other side of the console, "an estranged nan?"

"Sure, we all have estranged nans. Y'know, the ones that make you leave your own planet... no... just me?" the Doctor's face feel with the sudden realisation that only he had had this problem. He went back to the console controls and started fiddling. "Anyway, she was only part of the problem. I mean it was sterile really, I wanted to see the universe, have fun, and she was here, from the very beginning, the TARDIS."

"You talk about her as though you love her," motioned Clara in an apparent sarcastic but secretly admirable fashion.

"I do," said the Doctor, "In my own way, of course." The Doctor stroked over an array of buttons on the TARDIS console and panned his head around the console room, he thought for a second that a tear was going to roll down his cheek, but he supposed that his body thought better of it. "Right then, Clara Oswald" he lively interjected into his own stream of thoughts as he often did, "you haven't been to America yet."

"Doctor, when I said I wanted to come with you I was kind of expecting huge Alien planets, the mysterious past and the undetermined future, not... America."

"Oh come on Clara, the land of the free!" the Doctor saluted to Clara, in much the same way an enthusiastic young child would. "One, maybe two hours, we don't have to stay there for long. What do you say? Ice cream's on me."

"You are ridiculous, you know that. Hold old did you say you were, over a thousand? And yet you still act like a child."

"You say that as if it were a bad thing, Clara, as a lovely man in a scarf once said, there's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes." And with that the Doctor hurled one of the TARDIS levers towards him and, whilst laughing with Clara like two children in a playground, he piloted the TARDIS for modern day America.


	2. Chapter 2

The door opened with a sinister creek, and the tall, lean man on the opposite side of it peered at the two FBI agents. One of them was significantly taller than the other, and had hair down to his shoulders. The other, shorter, would be considered as attractive if a man was that way inclined, and had piercing green eyes that shot through the man staring at him as if he were made of paper.

"Hiya," the smaller man started, "I'm Detective Han and this is Detective Solo," he nodded to his partner, "we're here to talk about the case of the Chesapeake Ripper."

"Do come in gentlemen," the tall, lean man motioned towards the two chairs in the middle of his office and slowly position himself in between them.

"Nice place you got here," said Detective Solo, looking around the office, "lots of books."

"Reading is one of my strong suits," said the lean man, "it gives me the knowledge that I need for my profession. Now what can I do for you two gentlemen?"

"You are Dr. Hannibal Lecter, correct?" started detective Han, flicking through his notebook.

"Yes," the doctor replied, trying to peer into the notebook with extreme subtlety.

"And you work with Will Graham?" asked detective Solo, looking at Dr. Lecter with empathetic yet formal eyes.

"Yes," answered Dr. Lecter, "I sometimes help Will Graham with his cases and I normally consult with him as his Psychiatrist."

"So I presume you're working with him on the Chesapeake Ripper case then?" asked detective Han, scribbling out a line from his notebook as he did so.

"Of course, though the Chesapeake Ripper is a name given to the criminal by the media. Insinuating that the criminal has no methodological processes behind the act would be... irrational." Dr. Lecter gazed at the floor momentarily before looking back up at the two agents, "how does this matter concern you, may I ask?"

"Oh, erm, the Chesapeake Ripper case is one of great interest in the bureau, and we're here to make sure the investigation is going according to plan" answered detective Solo, shifting uncomfortably in his chair as he did so.

"May I take a look at your identification, please?" asked Dr. Lecter, after a controlled exhale.

"Erm, sure" replied detecive Solo, giving the doctor his I.D. as he did so.

Dr. Lecter surveyed the I.D. card closely, noting every mark behind the laminated surface. He cocked his head slightly and, taking into account the angle of his head, held the wallet up to eye level and inspected it's seam. There was a pause of a few minutes before Dr. Lecter gave the card back to detective Solo, the pair of detectives were so transfixed with the way Dr. Lecter examined the wallet the identification that they barely noticed any time passing at all.

"Good," said Dr. Lecter, reserved and calm, "for a counterfeit." The doctor walked up to a statue of a stag and caressed it. "Now, why are you really here?"

Detective Han cleared his throat, "I'm Dean and this is Sam... we're hunters, like the Chesapeake Ripper was, and we're writing an article about how his crimes have impacted the hunting community."

"Is that so?" asked Dr. Lecter calmly whilst slipping on two black leather gloves, "well, maybe it's time for us to have a hunt ourselves." The doctor walked slowly towards Sam and Dean, holding the stag statue with poise and finesse.

"But... but you're a doctor, not a hunter!" blurted out Sam, trying desperately to stay in character until the very last minute.

Dr. Lecter lifted up the stag above his head. His arms were quivering, Sam could notice the veins in them twitching psychotically. Both Sam and Dean were now transfixed in Dr. Lecter's presence and were rooted to the spot they were standing on. Never since the yellow eyed demon had they met such a monster, but this was no monster, they'd been investigating him for weeks, this was just your average everyday psychopath, and that was more terrifying than anything the pit could concoct.

One of Dr. Lecters research papers brushed past Dean's face, momentarily breaking his fixation. He was too terrified to pay attention to a menial occurrence like that, but then another one of Dr. Lecter's research paper brushed past Sam's face. But now, an entire desk of research papers was circling around Dr. Lecter's office, and Sam could swear that the faint sound of a broken engine could be heard in the air.

Then, as if from nowhere, a blue box stood in one corner of Dr. Lecter's office.

Now even Dr. Lecter's fixation was broken, and he turned to the box in bemusement.

"Hello!" said a voice from inside the box. "Did somebody say Doctor?" a mass of floppy brown hair and bowtie popped out of the door of the blue box and grinned at the three people in the office.


End file.
